


An Unexpected Awakening

by acidicshortcake



Category: Original Work
Genre: Chikan, Cunnilingus, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, F/F, Forced Exhibitionism, Forced Orgasm, Gangbang, Light Bondage, Multiple Orgasms, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Partially Clothed Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys, Vaginal Fingering, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:27:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26024941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acidicshortcake/pseuds/acidicshortcake
Summary: Nia hates her commutes. Eline loves them.
Relationships: Train Passengers/Woman on Train
Comments: 2
Kudos: 159
Collections: Femslash After Dark 2020





	An Unexpected Awakening

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vandoorne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vandoorne/gifts).



Nia hates her commute with the passion of a college sports team winning their first game. It lasts forever, no matter the time; the way back after work is less crowded today, but that doesn't make up for the fact that it's usually stuffed full, barely allowing room for her to squeeze into a car. It's as though everything in the universe seems set on making her trips as frustrating as it possibly can each day; it holds no small part in how tired she finds herself when she steps onto the train in the late hours after work, already planning her transit nap for the evening. 

Tonight is one of the fortunate nights—Nia's grateful for it, after the hell on earth that her meetings proved to be today. Her feet are sore, her muscles ache, and all she can think of as she sinks into an empty seat tucked away in a mostly unoccupied section near the back of the train is the nice, hot soak she'll have once she returns to her apartment. A long, heavy sigh leaves her lips as she rolls her shoulders and settles in comfortably. A long ride awaits her. 

*** 

Like clockwork, Eline watches as the voluptuous office woman nods off while the train starts to leave the station, her glasses slipping just slightly down her face. It happens more nights than not: she's out before they even make it to their first stop, and she stays that way until the last stop of the route, a destination that not many more than the two of them share. She sleeps like she's dead to the world and she might as well be, given all she tends to sleep through, completely unawares. Eline licks her lips just recalling it.

The amount of times she's been brought to orgasm with that woman nearby can't be counted by hand. The thrill of never knowing when she might wake up would always get Eline her first within minutes, and each thereafter would simply flow as if a dam had been broken. Even now, she can't help but bring her hand to the front of her short, plaid skirt to rub at herself; it's just as much a signal as it is impatience. 

One by one, the other women in the train car rise from their seats, coming closer. All the while, Eline's eyes wander the sleeping woman's vulnerable form, ideas forming in her mind; she blurts it out in heated suggestion when the first hand touches her arm. 

"Why don't we try something a little different tonight?" 

***

It's the best idea she's ever had—even more than convincing her group to hop aboard her train fantasy itself. 

Eline's clit aches as she hikes up the office woman's skirt and spreads her legs just wide enough to allow space to kneel between them. Her fingers run up and down the dark, sheer pantyhose in anticipation, touching just for the sake of touching. Above her, three other women giggle, gazes full of lust as they ease the woman out of her blazer and caress her full breasts; she stirs but doesn't wake to their advances, and it stokes a tight heat in the pit of Eline's core as she presses longing kisses to the woman's plush thighs. Light-colored, lacy panties barely hide beneath hosiery—she hopes there's a cute bra to match—and Eline can't help but imagine pulling them off with her teeth after they're soaked with arousal. The thought alone makes a moan purr from the back of her throat. 

Impatience is a trait she's never been able to shake, and it shows now as Eline digs manicured nails into the apex of the woman's nylons, tugging until she tears a hole serviceable enough to effortlessly rip the rest of the way through to get to the soft fabric beneath. Her fingertips ghost along the woman's slit, testing and teasing, anxious for response. She gets one in the form of a breathy sigh as the woman's hips shift in her sleep; Eline swears that being as turned on as she is could be dangerous somehow, but it's so much better than she ever imagined. Any other week, she'd be sitting across from this same woman, stuffed with vibrators as she lost track of who was touching her where. Dark eyes would be staring ahead at her unknowing witness as her heart spiked into feverish anxiousness, wondering what reaction could possibly come from someone were they to wake up to witness her, legs spread boldly as someone's perfect nails pinched at her exposed, hardened nipples. That same sort of arousal burns through her now, a roaring flame as she tugs the woman's panties aside to reveal fat, pink, carefully trimmed lips. Eline doesn't have it in herself to wait. 

As Eline's tongue darts out for a taste between those plump folds, her companions arrange the woman's jacket in a way that Eline herself is quite familiar with. It's a simple, light restraint, the sleeves of the jacket keeping the woman's wrists together, leaving her all the more vulnerable before them. The buttons of her blouse pop loose one by one, fabric pulled aside to reveal a cute, lavender bra—it matches, Eline thinks absently, pleased in the simplest of ways. The steady way the woman breaths is even more alluring now, with her breasts rising and falling in easy pattern; Eline almost wishes it were her hands slipping those bra straps down her slim shoulders, snaking their way into those cups to knead at that lovely chest, but she would never trade for it if it meant pulling her mouth away from the glistening pussy at her mercy. She licks stripes along the slit and sucks kisses along the labia, coating the precious, soft flesh in hefty amounts of her saliva as she chases the taste of the woman's unknowing arousal, lapping it up as if it were a well-deserved treat. It leaves her own dripping with want, and she forces her hands to grip the woman's thighs in order to keep herself from getting distracted from enjoying the fantastic figure in front of her by playing around with her own.

Above her, Eline can hear the wet sound of kisses on flesh and her head dives underwater, swimming with ideas. She reluctantly pulls away from the woman only to stick her own fingers into her mouth, slathering them with her saliva before slipping them into the woman's twitching cunt, nice and gentle. The woman moans, squirming at the intrusion; Eline wonders what kind of dreams she must be having, and if the way she clasps her lips around the woman's swollen clit does anything to make those dreams even better. She thrusts her fingers slowly, curling them into the woman's inner walls as she lavishes her with almost adoring attention. It isn't long before those walls are trembling around her fingers, clenching down and fluttering wildly in orgasm, but with them comes a dazed, confused sound, and Eline looks up to meet the woman's barely open hazel eyes looking down at her from behind her thin, butterfly-rimmed glasses. 

Eline smiles, a knowing, seductive look as her heart beats in thrumming, off-rhythm patterns. Alertness floods the woman's gaze as she takes in her predicament, shock written all over her expression. When she tries to move, her hands find themselves caught; her thighs clamp around Eline, but not strongly enough to mean much. 

"Hi there," Eline says, and Nia sputters, scrambling to bring her words together. 

"What is? Who are—let me go, get off of me, _help_ —!" 

The glasses nearly slip off Nia's face as she shakes her head, struggling against the hands that keep her pressed against the train seat. Her heart is a rabid thing, thunderous within the cage of her chest, and it only helps her nerves grow more and more aware of the heat that claims them. Her clit still trembles in the aftermath of her climax and she realizes with dull horror that she'd come at all, at the hands and mouth of a stranger all while unaware. There's something frightening about it, how she knows nothing of how these women have used her in her sleep—but there's something tantalizing about it, too, in a way that only terrifies Nia more as she tries in vain to cover her breasts and clamp her legs together. Neither work, not with the women around her restricting her movements and leaving her pinned down, unable to even so much as escape; she realizes with a distant horror that there's no one else in the train car, either.

It's just her. Her alone with these women whose hands and lips are all over her, ignoring her pleas. 

"Eline," someone says too close to her ear; so close that Nia turns away, her eyes screwed shut. "Make her feel good, won't you?"

The woman between her thighs lets out a soft yet husky laugh as she answers, "Of course."

As if her futile struggling was more a turn on than not, Eline rubs her hands greedily up Nia's calves, creeping to her thighs and squeezing them before burying her face back into her partly-clothed crotch. Nia ignores how her voice cracks into a squeak as eager lips and a practiced tongue lave at her, reminding her body of just how worked up it'd been while Nia had been unconscious. Her eyes water and she whimpers, begging for it all to stop to no avail. There are too many hands to keep track of roaming her body, pulling her bra down and away to leave her heavy breasts and shamefully hard, puffy nipples exposed for their pleasure; there are too many mouths leaving marks on her neck, her collar, kissing her shoulders and nibbling at the shells of her ears. Faintly, she hears the sound of a phone's camera going off, and it's all she can do to try and curl into herself to hide away. She hates it. She thinks she hates it, but her body is a traitor, responding with a beautiful flush that dusts over her skin and the slick that eagerly greets Eline's tongue as it prods at Nia's entrance. Her breath comes harsh and panting; she can do nothing but squirm under the assault, but her squirming does little to relieve her of the unwanted pleasure they force onto her.

"Please.... Please, stop it," Nia begs, breathless but frantic as she feels another regretful climax building. To come once was enough of a humiliation, but twice? She can't allow it. 

"But you like it, don't you?" A woman whispers against her throat before leaving an almost loving and playful nip to the sensitive skin there. Large breasts press against Nia's side. "You like waking up in the middle of being used, don't you? Like a perfect little doll, all ready and willing for us."

"No! No, I don't... I'm not like that!" Nia protests, shame heating her face and making her eyes water. "I'm not..." 

"Shh, shh, sweet thing," a different woman coos, long and elegant bronze fingers taking hold of Nia's chin and tilting her head back. Nia finds herself looking up at sparkling violet eyes, too sharp a color to be anything but unnatural, and a face framed by long, dark curls. "It's not such a bad thing, you know. Don't you feel good?"

Nia has to swallow back her unfiltered instinct to agree. "It doesn't," she gathers her strength and mutters instead. 

"It doesn't?" Eline stops her ministrations, though her tone is dripping with coyness. "So you're this wet over nothing?" 

She thrusts her fingers into Nia to add a pointed sentiment to her words, and Nia doesn't miss how easy her body welcomes them. She bites her lip, her eyes closed tight as she fights against the orgasm cresting within her. 

"Please... please..." She can't put her reluctance into words, though uncertainty entangles into her thoughts like a poison. She can barely keep herself from rocking against those digits, rejecting the idea that she could be _chasing_ her undoing at the hands of strangers on a _train_ of all places. The announcement of the upcoming station blares overhead and Nia's heart jumps into overdrive. What if someone boards only to see her like this, exposed and disgraced by the hands of these women? She shakes her head, struggling and begging. "Someone—someone will see, please, _please!_ " 

The train rolls to a stop and so does Nia's heart. For a moment even the very world around her stops as the train's doors open, but someone's fingers take hold of one of her nipples, rolling and pinching them between calloused fingers, and Nia's hips jerk as she comes, throwing her head back and nearly crying out in defeat were it not for the hand that clamps itself over her mouth. Eline works her through it mercilessly in silence, thumbing at her sensitive clit while stretching her open, and Nia's mind goes blank as she shakes and sobs, heels arching up out of her pumps, unable to stop herself as the fear of being seen mingles with the base, physical pleasure of her orgasm. She whimpers, tears rolling down her cheeks even as she closes her eyes, waiting for the inevitable gasp of disgust to come and tear her apart.

But the doors close with no incident. As the train begins rolling once more, Nia risks opening her eyes.

"Breathe, sweetheart," The third woman's unfamiliar feathery and quiet voice says as a hand runs through the dark brown strands of Nia's hair. Nia does as she's told without a thought and takes in a deep breath, bringing air into her lungs while completely unconscious of the way she fidgets against Eline's fingers. 

"Did you hope someone would see? Is that what made you come? What a good little slut. Perfect, pretty girl." 

The demeaning praise is uttered with the same tone as it the shameful words from before, a spicy syrup dripping from the redheaded woman's tongue. It riddles Nia with confusion as she gasps, blinking away tears as she clamors for some measure of sense. It slips from her fingers like sand when the other, quiet woman's lips latch onto her nipple and Eline lovingly strokes the soaked folds of her pussy. Nia whimpers, words dying on her tongue; when glossed lips find hers, she melts into it against her will as though it were a comfort. 

"There you go. Just sit back and let us make you feel real good." 

She doesn't know who says it, but her head's fried with overload, her body too focused on the hot, oversensitive clit that Eline's taken to circling once again—she trusts the voice that purrs such sweet promises to her. Her tense muscles unwind in defeat and she falls slack in their arms. As she does, she catches Eline's cheshire grin, as if she anticipates the soft sound of protest Nia lets out when she pulls away before Nia does herself. Eline shifts back, allowing Nia the freedom to finally close her legs now that she's too exhausted to do so; someone's hand takes her place, petting Nia lightly as if to keep all her nerves on alert and free of reprieve. As it does, Eline spreads her own legs wide, allowing the fabric of her skirt to bunch up at her hips and expose slick thighs and a bare pussy, flushed with arousal and glistening shamelessly. 

It's the dark-skinned, violet eyed woman that moves to wrap around Eline's figure; Nia notices for the first time that there's a toy in the woman's hand, one that buzzes to life moments before it sinks into Eline's mouth, who lets out a devilish moan as she touches herself in turn. Their familiarity tells a story that Nia finds herself enraptured by: this isn't the first time they've done this. They knew, somehow, that no one would enter the car earlier, and there's a look of unabashed hungry bliss painted on Eline's face as her mouth is fucked by the vibrator, her pussy shuddering and clenching around her fingers within minutes. The two women still touching and caressing Nia don't stop, slowly working up a third round of arousal despite Nia's still-buzzing flesh. She doesn't have the heart to ask what she already knows the answer to; instead she just whines as she's touched, loose-limbed and legs trembling. 

When the toy is pulled free from Eline's mouth, it's coated and glistening with saliva. Nia finds herself staring at it when Eline takes it in hand and turns to Nia, a mischievous light in green eyes. Nia knows what to expect before it even happens, but she struggles with the strength of a kitten, useless in the face of her own desire—unwanted though it may be—as Eline slowly eases the tool into Eline's waiting hole. 

Nia throws her head back, letting out a long, deep moan as the toy stretches and fills her in ways that she's neglected for far too long. It must be an encouraging sound; Eline leaves gentle nips at Nia's inner thighs as she steadily fucks he with the vibrator, agonizingly slow even when Nia's hips rock against it, urging for more. With a simple click, the toy begins to sing and so does Nia's nerves, sensitive to even the lightest setting; she gasps, toes curling as her nails dig into her palm, the climb of another orgasm ridding her of any cohesive thought. 

When she does come again, it's with stars in her eyes and a ringing in her ears. Her whole body shakes as she cries out, victim to the most intense climax she's ever had in her life. 

The rest of the train stops are a blur. Nia comes again and again under lips and fingers and tongues and toys, each somehow more mind-numbing than the last. She's a mess at their hands, nothing more than putty to be shaped and remolded and toyed with for entertainment. By the time it's all over and the women right her rumpled clothing and hair and bring her to her feet, Nia feels like little more than a confused newborn lamb, clutching onto a handrail for stability as the world around her desperately tries to phase itself back into existence. Two women leave at one stop; another leaves at the next, but not without capturing Nia in an almost chaste kiss, and sweetly wishing her a safe trip home. When Nia's own stop comes, it takes her a few moments to stumble onto the platform, barely acknowledging the odd looks she gets from some of the people waiting there. It takes her even longer to realize Eline's still beside her, bearing an easy smile as if nothing's ever amiss. 

"Need a walk home?" Eline asks, and though Nia hesitates almost long enough for Nia to rescind the casual offer, she finds herself nodding in defeat. She can't imagine the looks the strangers must be giving the two of them; Nia hopes they don't notice the runs in her pantyhose or how she's still flushed with a dizzying heat—or that her thighs are sticky with her numerous releases, or that she can barely stand straight, much less walk without leaning on Eline for support. She hopes they don't notice Eline's lack of panties under her skirt—much shorter than Nia's own—and come to some sort of lewd conclusion about the two of them that would leave Nia burning with shame.

And yet a strange, small part of her hopes that they do. 

  
  



End file.
